The Return of Urthemiel
by robertskycard
Summary: (Currently Discontinued) The son of Bryce Cousland has led a life of seclusion after finding Morrigan again, but is his child just that, or more than one? Based off of a M rated series of games.
1. Prologue: Meanwhile, in Kirkwall

**This fanfic will be from the view point of various characters, but mostly it will be from either my Hawke or Tristan Cousland, my Warden. All other characters belong to Bioware, save for some of the liberties I take.**

Prologue

(6 months after the incident at the Gallows)

Aveline walked through the streets of Lowtown, a company of guards following her. There had been reports of fighting in the alienage, and she was going to put a stop to it. In the months following the chaos of the Champion's disappearance, order hadn't been the city's strong point so far. There were riots almost daily, gangs of mage supporters and templar supporters were waging war through the streets of Lowtown, and the Coterie was having a civil war of its own. The only safe place to be was the Gallows or Hightown, and only in the day time. Aveline was reaching the end of her rope. She wanted the constant fighting to cease. And it was her job to make it so.

That's why Aveline, Donnic, and five other guards were walking down the stairs to the elven alienage. Sure enough, the reports were accurate and there were two groups of thugs with shoddy daggers, bows, hand axes, swords, armor. It seemed to be a gang fight, until Donnic spoke.

"See that, love? One of the groups is all elves. Is this a gang fight or an invasion?"

"Smart catch, Donnic." She stepped forward to listen in. One of the humans stepped forward, and one of the elves did the same. They met in the no man's land between the two gangs and eyed each other with pure contempt. The human spoke first.

"Where's the maleficar, knife ear?" he spat angrily.

"Sod off. We don't have your bleedin' maleficar. What do you want a maleficar for anyways?"

"That bitch killed my brother! I want her head!"

"We ain't seen her since the chantry blew up! From what I've heard, she's been buggerin' the Champion! If you want her, go find him!"

"You know that's bullshit! Stop protectin' her or we'll cut you all up!"

"Back your words with some action, shem!"

Aveline stepped foreward, "Stand down!"

The gangs turned toward her. Two of the guards knocked arrows in their draw strings and aimed their bows at the leaders of each gang. The rest drew their swords. Aveline continued, "Lay down your weapons and return to your homes. We are authorized to use deadly force."

"We ain't dyin' for somethin' we didn't start!" the leader of the elves stated bluntly before throwing his dagger to the ground. The rest elves immediately did the same before scattering to their homes.

Some of the humans wavered, then dropped their weapons and fled, but many remained, and the leader stepped forward, despite the bows that were now trained on him.

"Well well, if it isn't the captain of the guard! We were already seeking justice before your lot showed up. Clear off! That maleficar's gonna get what's comin' to her."

"It is against the law to take the law into your own hands. I'll have you jailed for acts of vigilantism."

The man stepped closer, and the others started closing slowly, like a pack of hungry wolves.

"You think you're so high and mighty, wielding the law like a shield. Well, you ain't the real power. The Templars would have fixed these knife ears for us if it weren't for you guard dogs! Why don't you leave town while you still can? The templars are the law of the city!"

Aveline stepped forward, matching the thug's challenge, "I say again, stand down. If you don't drop your weapon right now, I swear to you, I will put you to the sword myself!"

The man spat on Aveline's face, " Curse you, you Ferelden, dog lord bitch! Kill them!" He raised his weapon, but Aveline was too quick for him. A split second later, Aveline's sword had separated the man's head from his shoulders. It did a spiraling arc through the air and fell at the feat of another thug. The thug drew his weapon, but was struck with the guard archers's arrows, one in the throat, one in the sternum. The thug grasped the arrow in his throat and fell, gurgling, blood pouring down his body. The other thugs drew their weapons and charged, and two more took arrows before Aveline, Donnic, and three other guards counter charged into the fray. Blood poured over Aveline's hands and spattered her face as she cut, stabbed, and hacked her way through numerous thugs. Blood sprayed into the air and the hard dirt became soaked with it, so much that the thugs began to slip in it and fall. Every few seconds, a pair of arrow came whistling through the air, striking their targets with deadly accuracy. But there were too many, and soon Aveline, Donnic and the three other guards were surrounding their archers, shields raised in a circular formation.

Aveline swore and turned to Donnic, "Well, I guess this is where we die."

Donnic turned to her and smiled weakly, "Well love, at least we will die together."

Suddenly, as the guards braced for oblivion, a great and terrible noise rang out in everyone's heads, and a dark, menacing voice rang in Aveline's head. She covered her ears, like everyone else, but it spoke in her mind.

"Cease your pitiful struggle, children of the magisters!"


	2. Chapter 1: When Heroes Meet

Chapter 1: When Heroes Meet

(6 hours before the unknown voice spoke)

Hawke, Merrill, Isabela, and Varric meandered down the pass out of the Vinmark Mountains. Hawke's mind was still reeling with thoughts of his father and family, so Varric had decided to take the lead. After a while, they came to a narrow passage in between two cliffs. Hawke had begun to look rather pale, so Varric took him aside and sat him down on a boulder.

"Hawke, you okay there? I think you should sit down."

"I'll be alright Varric. I'll just throw up and then be right as rain."

"Come on, Hawke, you look like shit. Would it kill you to sit down for a little bit? How about you just rest with Daisy and the Rivaini, Bianca and I will check out the passage ahead."

"I guess I could use the break."

Varric clapped him on the shoulder, "Smart man," he said as he turned and walked down the passage with Isabela in tow. Merrill sat down next to Hawke. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him tenderly.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little sick at the moment. I'll be fine in a bit. "

Merrill put a hand on his forehead, "You're a little bit feverish," she ruffled through her pack and pulled out some herbs. She crushed them up in the palm of her hand and then gave them to Hawke, "If you rub these on your gums, you won't feel like vomiting."

He took the herbs and did as he was told. Pretty soon the waves of nausea ceased.

"How did you know about that?"

"Our halla used to have problems with their stomachs, so we'd use these to keep them from puking all over the aravels. But they usually didn't like to open their mouths so we'd have to turn them around and..." she noticed Hawke's slowly growing disgust, "I'll just shut up now."

They sat there in silence for a few moments until Hawke spoke, "We do a lot of walking, don't we?"

Merrill giggled, "I wish I had your wit, _ma vhenan_."

* * *

><p>"So what did Daisy tell you about her and Hawke that night?"<p>

"She told me to keep it to myself, Varric."

"Come on, Rivaini."

"If I tell you, you'll never look at her the same way again."

Varric opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Isabela, "Wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what, Rivaini?"

"That voice. I think it's calling for help!"

Varric listened intently, and sure enough, he heard it. It was a woman's voice. Isabela and Varric drew their weapons and headed down the pass at a fast clip. Up ahead at the end of the pass were two figures, one tall and one short. As they got closer, Varric could make out what the woman was saying.

"Help! Anyone! We need help!"

As the two pairs closed the distance, Varric saw that the taller figure was a woman with raven colored hair done up in a bun. Her eyes were golden, her face and tattered clothes were spattered with blood, and in her hand she held an old wooden staff. The shorter figure turned out to be a child with a shock of black hair and his eyes were the same as the woman's. He was also wearing simple clothing which was soaked in blood.

The woman looked at Varric with a look of desperation, "Quickly! You must help him! 'Tis not far and he may already be dead!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! What's with the blood? And who is this 'he'?"

The boy turned to the woman, "Mother, why isn't Father following us?"

"Hush, child! It will be alright. These people must help him!" she turned to Varric, "You must!"

"Whose blood is that?"

"Darkspawn. My son and I cannot linger! Help his father if you can! If you cannot, then run!"

The boy tugged on his mother's shirt, "We should go back for Father!"

"He told us to leave him! You are more important than either of us!"

And with that, the woman grabbed the child and ran between Varric and Isabela and sped down the pass.

Isabela turned to Varric, "So, shall we help the frenzied family by seeing if this father of theirs has any valuables on his corpse?"

"Judging by all the blood, I'd think that he's probably not dead yet. You'd have to kill about thirty darkspawn to get that much all over you. Do you think we should get Hawke?"

"They'll get him soon enough."

* * *

><p>Hawke stood up, "Well, shall we get going? They must be so tired of waiting, no doubt."<p>

Merrill did not stand, "I could rest my feet a little. They ache from so much walking."

Hawke knelt down by Merrill's feet, "Nonsense! I can get you up and walking in no time."

Merrill cocked an eyebrow as Hawke removed her shoes, "Oh? And how would you do that?"

Hawke grinned, "Like so."

He began to caress her feet, to massage all the pain and soreness away. Merrill leaned back and relaxed as Hawke tenderly rubbed the soles of her feet. She looked up at the blue sky and the clouds. He maneuvered his hands skillfully over her skin, cautiously squeezing and rubbing all the right spots. Waves of pleasure washed over her. She closed her eyes, wishing the feeling could last forever.

And it could have, but they were suddenly interrupted when a pair of strangers ran by, accidentally knocking Hawke over. Hawke jumped to his feet angrily, "Hey! What's got you two in such a hurry as to knock over a stranger."

The smaller of the two grabbed the other, and when they spun around, it turned out they were a woman and child, both of whom were soaked with blood. The woman spoke.

"I'm sorry, ser! But we are in a hurry to get away from the darkspawn! One of our group is covering our escape, but I don't know how long he will hold out! Please, you must help him!"

"Wait a minute. Where's Varric and Isabela?"

"I don't know of whom you speak, unless you are referring to a dwarf and his friend. If that is them, I hope they went to assist. We can't tarry any longer! We must go!"

The child looked up and cried out in terror, pointing up above Hawke's head, "Watch out!"

Hawke looked up in time to see two hurlocks dropping down, swords raised, their teeth in the shape of that wicked grin Hawke would never forget. Merrill quickly stood up and brandished the staff of Keeper Marethari. She swung the blade up and sliced one of the hurlocks neatly in two, the blood and organs raining on the pair of them. The other hurlock turned into ice and shattered when it hit the ground.

Hawke turned to the woman, whose hand was extended, whisps of cold fog dissipating from her fingers and palm. The child was clinging to her, terrified eyes wide. Before Hawke could say anything, the woman seized the boy, turned, and fled.

"Well, that was... strange," he said as he turned to Merrill, "Thank you for saving my bacon."

"But you don't have any... oh, right," she said as she put on her shoes, "We should go help Isabela and Varric."

They raced down the pass, weapons drawn. They did not encounter anymore darkspawn, but Hawke was still vigilant. They reached the other end of the pass, and almost ran into Varric and Isabela. Varric turned to Hawke,

"Maker's breath! Did you kill that weird couple?"

"If you're talking about a pair of darkspawn, yes."

"I guess it doesn't matter. You're gonna want to see this."

The four of them walked from the entrance of the pass and beheld a grisly sight. Darkspawn limbs and weapons lay scattered everywhere in pools of thickening blood. Other darkspawn charged and were cut down, their bodies were rent, their limbs were hacked, their heads were severed. In the midst of it all was a lone human figure, clad in blood-soaked human armor. His sword glinted in the light as it cut through limb after limb, neck after neck. The golden shield was so spattered with gore that the heraldry could not be made out.

"That's... a lot of blood," Hawke grimaced as he watched the blade cut through yet another hurlock's throat and the blood sprayed in all directions.

Varric looked up at Hawke, "Bianca could use some target practice. What do you think?"

As Hawke deliberated, one of the darkspawn got in a lucky blow, and the human's sword clattered uselessly away from him as he fell on his back. The hurlock pounced on him and raised its axe high, ready to deliver a killing blow.

Merrill lifted her staff, "We should help him!"

But there was no need. The human surprised the hurlock by grabbing its head with his now empty hand. He kicked it in the gut, lifted the tail end of his kite shield, and impaled the darkspawn's throat on his shield. Blood poured down the face of the shield and with a quick shove, the human warrior removed the corpse from on top of him and seized the hurlock's hand axe, which he embedded in the next hurlock's skull.

Merrill, Isabela, and Varric all looked at Hawke for direction.

"Fine, let's go help him, " he groaned as he drew his daggers, "I'm gonna regret saying that."

Varric drew Bianca, saying, "Alright. HEY BOYS! SAY HI TO BIANCA!" as he shot a few arrows into the crowd of darkspawn that swarmed up the hill. Hawke and Isabela drew their daggers and dived into the fray, and Merrill called down lighting and fire from the sky. Hawke deftly killed two genlocks before kicking the warrior's sword over to him. The warrior fought his way over to Hawke, clapped a hand on Hawke's shoulder, and said, "Thank you, friend, but I fear they will not stop. We must fall back.

Hawke nodded, "Pull back to the pass!" he called over the chaos of the battle. He rolled bewteeen two hurlocks and neatly sliced their heads off. Isabela stabbed a genlock in the throat and a hurlock in the stomach. Varric loaded his crossbow full of arrows and fired them into the air. They rained death down upon the horde, and after that, only a few remained.

"More will be along in a moment, hurry!" the warrior shouted, before charging the remaining few and expertly slicing them to bits.

An ogre crested the hill, and saw five of them backing into the pass. It put its hands on a massive boulder, twice the size of a man. It strained it's muscles as it picked up the massive boulder and held it behind it's shoulder. It hurled the stone straight at the pass entrance.

Hawke called out, "Look out, Merrill!" He began to run to her, Varric grabbed him by the collar of his armor and pulled him back. Both of them fell as Hawke cried out, "Merrill, NO!"

Isabela dove at Merrill and tackled her into the pass a split second before the massive boulder landed, cracking the stones around it.

Hawke disentangled himself from Varric and ran up to the boulder. He pounded on it with his fists, calling out to Merrill. The warrior turned to the ogre, which was recovering from the exertion of throwing the boulder. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his shield in front of himself, resting the tip of his sword upon the top. He ran towards the ogre, a battle cry of unholy fury escaping his lips, "FACE ME, MONSTER!" He lunged forward and his sword punched through the ogre's shoulder. It collapsed with the momentum of the warrior. He wrenched his blade from the ogre's shoulder, lifted it high in the air, and plunged it into the ogre's skull. He twisted it once and ripped it free.

* * *

><p>Merrill pushed Isabela off of her and immediately began clasping at the rock that was blocking the pass.<p>

"Hawke! _Ma vhenan_, can you hear me?"

She pushed on the boulder, but it didn't give way.

"Blight take you, you stupid chunk of rock!" Merrill backed up, raised her hands, and fire burst from them and charred the surface of the immovable stone.

"Merrill!" Isabela grabbed Merrill's shoulder, and the elf turned and fell into Isabela's arms, sobbing.

"It's okay, Kitten. I'm sure he's alright," She put her hands on Merrill's shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, "We have to get out of here. If we back track, they will meet us somewhere along the way. We should find that woman and child."

Merrill sniffed.

"I need you to be strong for me, Kitten."

Merrill wiped her nose on her arm and straightened up.

"That's my girl."

* * *

><p>The warrior sheathed his sword and stepped towards Hawke, who had fallen to his knees, "MERRILL!" Hawke called out in agony, and rested his head on the boulder, tears running paths through the blood on his cheeks.<p>

Varric put a hand on Hawke's shoulder, "Come on, Hawke, we can't sit out here like nugs for the slaughter. We've got to keep moving."

Hawke murmured to himself, "Why should I? She's dead. They're dead and it's all my fault."

The warrior spoke, "Let us make haste. We cannot be certain that they are dead. We must move on regardless. If they are smart, they will make haste to the other end of the pass and continue deeper into the mountains. They will find Morrigan there."

Hawke looked up at the warrior and finally got a good look at his face. His hair was short and black, his eyes were a piercing blue, and he looked like he had seen some truly horrible tragedies.

"Who are you?"

The man wiped the blood from his face, "My name is Tristan Cousland. You may know of me as the Hero of Ferelden."


	3. Chapter 2: Hiking with Darkspawn

Chapter 2: Hiking with Darkspawn

Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but Tristan raised his hand, "I know you have questions for me, but we have more pressing matters to attend to. Morrigan and I have been hunted for days by this party of darkspawn, and they have been growing in number by the minute. This," he gestured at the piles of bodies and gore behind him, "was just the first wave."

Varric spoke, "Andraste's ass! That's at least a hundred! I haven't seen that many since the Deep Roads!" Hawke nodded in agreement.

Tristan looked them both over, "Indeed. I have not seen them in this number since the Blight. I wonder, just as you, why so many have chosen to take to the surface. I have a hunch, but I cannot explain everything while there are darkspawn behind us. We must try to lose them in the mountains, find some place defensible, and hold off the tide that will come. I asked Morrigan and our son to meet me further in the mountains. Hopefully, your friends will find them or us. If not," he paused, considering the full extent of the danger that the two women could be in, "Maker help them."

Hawke spat back violently, "They are sturdier than you think!"

"They may be as sturdy as these mountains, but they cannot face this horde alone. But enough. We mustn't linger. They are almost upon us!" he turned to leave, but noticed Hawke and Varric were not following, "Are you coming? If your friends have survived, they will have better luck finding you alive deeper in the mountains. If you remain, they will find naught but corpses."

Varric tugged on Hawke's armored shoulder, "Come on, Hawke. Let's see if we can find Daisy and the Rivaini."

Hawke nodded grimly and stood up. Tristan followed the side of the mountain, with Hawke and Varric trailing after him, cautiously looking over their shoulders.

* * *

><p>"Mother?"<p>

Morrigan looked down at her son as they quickly walked, "What is it?"

"Why didn't we go back for Father?"

"You don't remember what he said?"

"I do remember, Mother, but why would we leave Father if you were so sure he'd be dead without help?"

"He would have been dead without help, child. Just not as quickly as I led those travelers to believe. People wouldn't usually help a warrior so capable as your father. I had to make it sound as though he would be dead within the minute. You did see how fast they ran to his aid, no? You played your part well. Now, pay heed, for what I am about to say is important. People who travel the roads are one of two things. They are either bandits, or armed travelers. And both groups think of themselves as more capable than the other, or any who travel the roads."

"But we aren't armed. What does that make us?"

"And you jump upon my point prematurely. But don't fret. For it is the unarmed travelers that you must be cautious about. Mostly, they are just fools trying to make it somewhere else where they think their chances are better. But sometimes, they are the one person or people that a bandit should not toy with."

"Like us?"

"Exactly! You learn fast, young one."

The child was silently beaming for a few minutes before he furrowed his brows in thought, "You said I was more important than you or Father. Is this true, Mother?"

Morrigan bit her lip, "It is true, in more ways than one."

"Why am I so important, Mother?"

"You are a child. More than that, I will not say. Please, I ask you to stop asking me these foolish questions. It reminds me all too much of your father."

He opened his mouth to speak further, but a loud snarl cut him off. A hurlock jumped down from the ledge above them and landed in front of them. A few more joined it, and a few genlocks jumped behind them. The darkspawn slowly formed a semi-circle, blocking the travelers's exit.

"Get behind me," she whispered to the child, who did as he was told and clung to her leggings, eyes wide with terror. The darkspawn growled, brandishing their weapons.

Morrigan waved her staff in front of her. "You will not have him!" She cried and a wave of fire erupted from her hands, setting all the darkspawn alight. They shrieked horribly and clawed at their burning flesh. They collapsed, still writhing, but quickly stopped all motion as they turned from fire into ash.

She turned back to the child, bent down, and embraced him.

"I won't let anything happen to you. But we must go."

She stood and hurried away, closely followed by her son.

* * *

><p>Isabela and Merrill ran out of the pass, their weapons drawn. They stopped and looked about, trying to get their bearings.<p>

"Merrill, we need to find the others. I would bet they are trying to find that woman and her boy. We should meet up with them."

Merrill nodded silently and knelt down, studying the ground. She looked very closely at the tumble of footprints in the dust. She stood up.

"I could never track as well as my clan mates, but I'm pretty sure they went that way."

Isabela patted Merrill on the shoulder, "I trust you, Kitten. Just do your best."

Merrill followed the footprints with Isabela in tow. Merrill focused entirely on the tracks while Isabela kept a close eye on their surroundings, watching warily for darkspawn. She mostly watched behind them, making sure they didn't get flanked. She almost tripped over Merrill when the Dalish elf stopped.

"I don't remember starting a fire here. Do you?" Merrill looked up at Isabela for a response.

"Strange. We walked by here not an hour ago."

Before them was a large scorched patch of land, covered with ashes. Merrill knelt down, pinched some of the ashes between her thumb and finger, brought her hand up to her nose, and ground the ashes between her digits, inhaling the odor it produced.

"It wasn't a normal fire. These ashes smell of darkspawn."

"Hold a moment. They are mages?"

"I know the woman was a mage. She froze a hurlock."

"We must be close, then," Isabela muttered.

At that moment, they heard a woman's voice, calling, "I will not let you take my son!" They immediately started running. A hurlock jumped in front of them, but Isabela quickly cut it down. They turned a corner and saw a dozen darkspawn charge a lone human woman. She waved her staff in a semi-circle, large spikes of ice shooting up from the ground away from her. They impaled the darkspawn in many places, and when the ice vanished, the darkspawn fell forward, landed on the ground, and blood pooled beneath them.

The raven haired woman relaxed for a moment, but when she saw Merrill and Isabela, she lifted her staff in defense.

"If you come to threaten my child, I will fight you to my last breath!"

"Watch where you point that thing!" Isabela called out, weapons at the ready.

"I need to know your intentions! If you do not tell me, leave now or I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand!"

Merrill spoke, "There's no need for violence. We don't want to hurt anyone except the darkspawn."

The child pulled on the woman's shirt, "Mother, these people are the ones who went to help Father!"

The woman finally lowered her staff. Isabela sheathed her daggers. Merrill strode up to the woman, greeting her with, "_Andaran atish'an._ I am Merrill. This is my friend, Isabela."

"I am Morrigan. I shan't deign more introductions until my son and I find a place to hold down and survive these darkspawn. If you wish to join us, feel free."

Isabela and Merrill exchanged a cocked eyebrow.

"Darkspawn seemed to have reached this far into the mountains relatively quickly. Since you two are alone, I'll assume that the rest didn't make it?"

Isabela promptly spoke, "I doubt it. Varric's a tough man, and Hawke's the damned Champion of Kirkwall. That other man seemed pretty skilled as well."

"Be that as it may, I'm taking my son deeper into the mountains. If you wish to follow, do it. If not, I'll leave you to your fate."

* * *

><p>Darkspawn swarmed after the trio of men. They ran from the horde, with Varric turning around every few seconds to fire a burst of arrows into the crowd. For every one that fell another would take it's place. A few broke away from the group and rushed forward. Tristan turned and cut them down with a few skilled swipes of his sword.<p>

"Go! I'll handle them!" Hawke cried. Hawke knelt down and placed a fire bomb before running after his comrades. The swarm reached the explosive, unaware of their impending doom.

"Get down!" Hawke called, diving behind a boulder. Varric dove to the ground and covered his head, covering Bianca with his body. Tristan knelt behind his shield.

The explosion shook the earth. Chunks of darkspawn flesh flew through the air, and a fine spray of blood rained all around them. Hawke's ears rang with the noise. Shrapnel and bits of rock clanged against Tristan's shield and armor. The back of Varric's clothes were bloody and tattered, scraped by the flying shards of glass and rock.

Tristan peeked out from behind his shield and swore, "Dammit! They're still coming, the bastards!"

Varric groaned as he crawled to his feet, "Son of a bitch. Really?"

Tristan grimly looked left and right. He pointed to a ledge up above them, "Varric, get up there and provide some fire. We need to make a stand here. Maker, if I'd have had my Wardens..."

Hawke looked to his right. The pass they were on was a small ledge with a sheer cliff face below them. The ledge was wide enough for a large number of darkspawn to swarm them, but not wide enough for Hawke to maneuver. He briefly wondered for a moment if Tristan was insane, "There's no way we can make a stand here. It's suicide."

Tristan laughed mirthlessly, "We all die eventually, Champion. It seems that our number has come up, and the Maker is ready to cull his his herd. Ready yourself to fight here, or leave to find your companions before you die in the mountain passes. Either way, death has followed you here, and it won't stop until it takes it's prize."

"I've got a better idea!"

Hawke and Tristan looked up to see Varric on the ledge pushing on a boulder.

"I could use some help with this, Hawke! Bianca's many things, but she's not a prying bar!"

Tristan turned to Hawke, "Your dwarf friend is smarter than he looks."

At that moment, an arrow struck Tristan in the shoulder. Its wicked barb punched right through the armor and scored the muscle and bone underneath. His shield arm went slack immediately and he screamed in pain. He fell to his knees, but shouted angrily when Hawke tried to help him up, "Get up there and help him! NOW! Or else they'll kill us all!" He turned to face the coming darkspawn. He let his shield fall and held his sword at the ready.

Hawke reached the boulder and began to push with all his might. The first of the swarm had already reached Tristan and they could hear the clang of metal on metal and the screams of dying monsters. The boulder moved slowly, grinding against the stone it rested on.

"Move, damn you!" Hawke growled.

"It's not going to budge just because you tell it to!"

"Not the time, Varric!"

Finally, the boulder gave way and fell. The darkspawn underneath looked up too late and fell under the boulder with a sickening crunch, bits of blood and bone spattering out both ends. Despite this minor victory, a pair of hurlocks had escaped the carnage and rushed toward Tristan, who could barely lift his sword. Tristan roared and charged the pair, stabbing one through the throat. The other kicked him in the chest, knocking him over. It raised its sword for the killing blow.

Before Hawke could blink or react, the hurlock fell to it's knees, a bolt protruding from the back of it's skull, the tip punched through it's eye socket. Tristan struggled to his feet. Hawke rushed to help him up.

"Bastard almost got me," muttered the Warden, breathing heavily, "I can't take much more of this. We need to find Morrigan and your companions. If we don't, we're all dead."

Hawke chuckled, "We all die eventually, Warden."

Tristan stiffened at the comment and glared at Hawke, "I've faced my own death more times than you can count, Champion. I saw my family butchered and my house destroyed. I've faced hordes of darkspawn for weeks in the Deep Roads, and I was nearly killed in the Battle of Ostagar. My death will come quickly and soon, but it is not my mortality that I fear. I must find Morrigan and my son before the darkspawn take them. If you care for your companions as I care for my child, then you must not perish."

Hawke glared back, but conceded.

"Let's find your damsel, Warden."


	4. Chapter 3: The Stand

Chapter 3: The Stand

"Come on, Kitten!" Isabela called behind her. Merrill struggled to keep the pace. Her feet were sore again, and Hawke's anguished cry kept replaying through her mind. She kept telling herself that he would be alright, that he would be fine. But every minute that passed saw her hope dwindle ever so slowly. Now, two hours after they first encountered the darkspawn, her hope had become despair. She wanted to stop, to turn around and go find him, living or dead, but Morrigan and Isabela wouldn't let her. She had begged them to let her leave to find him, but Morrigan's icy words echoed in her mind, "I will not stop. If you leave us, you will die alone."

Morrigan was right about that. Since Isabela and Merrill had met her, they had killed dozens of darkspawn. There was no room for respite, for Morrigan pushed them to keep going, despite how tired both of them were. Isabela, being the stronger of the two, was able to keep pace with the witch. However, Merrill found herself lagging behind, despite her efforts to keep up. All the while, Merrill could hear the snarls of darkspawn that were scaling the mountain around them, scouring the passes in search of their prey. It was no longer hope that motivated her to keep moving, but fear. Still, she was exhausted and needed rest. They were inside a long, narrow passage through the mountain when it happened.

Merrill's foot caught on a stone. The ground rushed up to meet her. She placed her hands out to break her fall, but it was too late. The hard earth met her face with a sickening crunch. Merrill, dazed, got on her hands and knees and felt her broken nose. Blood ran down her face and the back of her throat. She gagged on it and wretched loudly. The bile in her gut spattered the blood-stained ground. She began to sob uncontrollably. Isabela turned around at the commotion and returned to her friend. She slid Merrill's arm over her shoulder and picked the elf up. She half walked, half drug Merrill, whose tears ran down her cheek.

"I'm so clumsy. I'll just slow you down. Just leave me. I'll find Hawke." Merrill whispered.

"Nonsense, Kitten. We just have to push a little further. We're in this together, you know that. Chin up. It could be worse," Isabela reassured her.

Merrill smiled a little. Isabela wiped the tears and blood from her face as they moved. Merrill was about to try to walk on her own when they bumped into Morrigan's back.

"Maker's breath, witch! We -. Oh, no."

Merrill looked up to see a sheer cliff. All around them, the stone was smooth granite, as if someone had been carving a tunnel and decided to stop. Morrigan began to stare at the wall. The child sat down, eyes looking this way and that. Isabela swore loudly, her voice echoing off the stone walls, and she kicked a loose stone, which clattered loudly against the granite. Merrill felt the tears welling up again. This was it. This was where she would die. No tree planted in her memory by the one she loved. Her body would lie abandoned, torn and ravaged by scavenger birds, and her bones would never be buried. She would die listening to the savage shrieks of darkspawn. She fell to her knees, all the despair and hopelessness descending on her like the birds that would soon be feasting on her corpse. It was too useless to wail. The tears ran silently down her cheeks, washing the blood away drop by drop.

She sat against the wall, her mind a blur. At this moment, all of her life began to force its way through her mind, specifically all her failures. All of the Dalish friends she had once had were now dead, by her own hand. The Pride demon had played her like a flute, but that didn't give her an excuse. She had murdered her clan. She had betrayed them first. It didn't matter that others had actually performed the killing blows, their blood was on her hands. A voice broke her thoughts.

"Why are you crying?" It was the child. His eyes were filled with concern.

"It's nothing," Merrill lied, quickly wiping away her tears.

"Don't be afraid. Father will rescue us. Don't you agree, Mother?"

Morrigan raised a hand, indicating that she didn't want to be bothered. The witch continued to stare at the wall, her hand stroking her chin in thought.

The child turned back to Merrill, "She agrees, but she always likes to do things her own way. Father and Mother get into fights sometimes about it, but she told me that is the way of the world. Father loves her and he loves me. He's the strongest man in the world. I want to be like him, someday. Do you have any children?"

Merrill chuckled a little. This child was quite absurd and brought a little levity to their dire situation, "No, little one, I don't have children."

His next question sobered her a little, "Do you have any family?"

She almost choked on her response, "I had a family. But then...something happened. I don't...talk to them anymore."

"Why not?"

Merrill turned toward the boy and began to tear up again, "I did something... terrible to them."

"What did you do?"

Morrigan's voice cracked like a whip, "Stop pestering the poor girl." Merrill was thankful, but when she opened her mouth to say something, Morrigan spoke again, "I have a solution. If we score the stone with ice, we may be able to make handholds and climb out of this abyss."

Isabela looked up and frowned, "I bet if we use ice, it will make the stone wet and slick."

"What about rock?"

Merrill had blurted it out without thinking. Morrigan turned to her, "Foolish girl. This is granite, one of the hardest stones known. Throwing rock against it, be them magical or otherwise, is a fruitless waste of energy. We need something hard _and_ sharp. Ice is the only magic that fulfills both requirements and is at our disposal and I'm not even sure if that will work. It will take time, surely."

She turned away and her hands glowed white before spikes of cold shot from them. The hurtled toward the monolith in front of the party and shattered when they made contact. Morrigan strode forward and touched where the spikes had found their targets. There were faint scratches, but they did not leave enough room for even their fingertips to gain purchase. Morrigan cursed under her breath, backed away, and fired more ice spikes at the monolith. She turned her head toward Merrill.

"This will go faster if you help."

Merrill stood up, took her place beside Morrigan, and called on her magic.

* * *

><p>Hawke held Tristan steady as Varric guarded the rear. After the respite from the darkspawn swarm, they had tried to relocate the others without success. At one point, they were ambushed by darkspawn archers. The fight had been short and bloody, but Tristan took some more arrows. The Warden's numerous wounds were oozing a considerable amount of blood, a lot of which was mingling with the darkspawn blood on Hawke's armor. He was growing weaker, both physically and mentally. Hawke carried Tristan's sword on his own back, while Tristan wore the shield on his own back to protect him.<p>

"Maker's breath, Hawke," muttered Varric, "We have to leave him. He's not going to last much longer, the way he is."

"Your friend's right, Champion," Tristan coughed, blood spattering onto the hand he used to cover his mouth, "Death has come for me."

Hawke shook his head, "No. We can find the others soon, I know it. We're close."

Varric exchanged a sad look with Tristan. It was impossible to reason with Hawke once he had made a decision. They ran into a pair of darkspawn which Varric dispatched easily.

"Could we have lost them? We haven't seen many in a while," Hawke hoped.

Tristan shook his head, "We may have lost them, but they will keep searching until they find us again. Then, they will kill us. Cut our bodies to pieces and feast on our entrails."

Varric scoffed, "Great! Now we have 'appetizer' on the list of things darkspawn like about us."

Tristan began to laugh, which quickly turned into a hacking cough. He spat some more blood into his hand, "I'm going to die, Champion," he said, "It is best if you leave me here. I'll keep them busy while you find the others."

"No," came Hawke's reply, "We're in this together to the very end. You will find your companions and I will find mine."

Tristan's face showed an expression of weary anger, but he remained silent. Varric, however, stepped in front of Hawke and forced the group to stop.

"Hawke, this is pointless. We're going to be carrying a corpse in a minute!"

"Dammit, Varric! I'm not leaving him!"

"Why?"

"He's not just some Grey Warden. He's the Hero of Ferelden, the only Grey Warden to ever live past killing the Arch Demon."

"I don't care if he's the Maker incarnate, we have to leave him or he's going to get us killed!"

"Varric, this isn't up for debate. I'm taking him with me. If you don't like it, get out of the way."

"Hawke!" Varric pulled Bianca and pointed it at the Warden, "If you don't drop him right now, I'm going to shoot him right between the eyes."

Hawke exploded, "He's the only one who can tell us why these mountains are swarming with darkspawn! If you kill him now, we'll never know the truth about why these things are trying so hard to kill us!"

"Sod the truth! I'm more concerned with our lives! If we don't leave him, we won't save the others because we're being chewed on by monsters!" Varric put his finger on the trigger of his crossbow, "You've got five seconds before I put a bolt through his skull, Hawke! What's it going to be?"

Suddenly, Tristan spoke up, "What do you think you're doing, dwarf?" Varric puzzled over the question for a moment before Tristan spoke again, "Would killing me really help your cause?"

Varric pondered for a moment, but before he could give an answer, Tristan answered for him, "If the Champion wants to know the truth, depriving him of it forever would only fracture what's left of your alliance even more. You are forcing him to leave the facts behind. Your ultimate goal, regardless of what happens, will not come to fruition solely because you refuse to help your companion," He turned his attention toward Hawke, "And you, if your desire for knowledge surpasses your need for survival, you are truly one of the most foolish people I have ever met. It seems to me that both of you need some sort of leadership to survive long enough to find the others. Now, help me up. I've found a reason to live."

Varric and Hawke exchanged a strange look before helping Tristan to his feet as best they could. They marched on in silence for a time. Soon, they found the entrance to a mountain pass that looked as if a giant sword had cut into the mountain. The sides were smooth granite, and it looked as if it might cut all the way through the mountain. It was then that they heard the sounds of a cold, unnatural wind. Tristan smiled.

"There's only one source for that kind of sound at this time of year," said the Warden, "Magic! We're close! Let's push on!"

Suddenly, Tristan's eyes began to glow a pale silvery blue. Smoke of the same color seemed to emanate from his pupils. He blinked, and it was gone, but his face changed from happiness to fear, "Darkspawn…Morrigan! We must hurry!"

He took two steps forward and fell on the shoulders of Varric and Hawke. Soon, screeches and unholy howls echoed around the whole mountain range. The trio began to enter the pass, but their pace was slow.

Hawke growled in frustration, "If we're going to have a chance at reaching the others, one of us has to hold them off."

"I'll do it," said Tristan, "I'm the weakest, yet I can still kill a few before they take me down."

"No!"

"Aw, sod it!" Varric muttered before unholstering Bianca, "Get out of here, Hawke! Go!"

Hawke turned, shocked, "Varric –!"

"JUST GO! NOW!"

"Let's go, Champion!"

With that, Hawke and Tristan turned and rushed down the pass as fast as they could.

* * *

><p>Morrigan was running out of energy. She'd been shooting ice at the monolith with as much power as she could muster, yet no matter how much energy and weight she put behind the ice spikes, they failed to make much more than scratches against the hard granite. Merrill's efforts were equally fruitless, and the combination of failure, Merrill's moping, and the speed with which this task needed to be accomplished was putting her on edge. She briefly wondered whether or not she should just transform into a bird, take her son, and fly away, but she put that thought away temporarily. However, when Merrill collapsed from exhaustion, Morrigan lost it and the thought became a viable option.<p>

"Dammit! Get up! We can't stop or we will become trapped in here! Do you understand, elf?!"

Merrill nodded slowly and mumbled an apology. Her pirate companion, however, was much more defensive, "Can't you see she's tired, witch? If you keep pushing her like that, you'll kill her!"

Morrigan's anger flared, "If you wish to die here, so be it! I, however, will not stand idly by while darkspawn are clinging to my heels! Come!" she gestured to her son, "We're leaving."

The child looked up at his mother, and uttered a single word, "No."

Morrigan almost laughed from the absurdity of it, but then the child began to speak again, "We can't leave them! They'll die!"

"And if we don't go, we'll die with them! We must go now!"

The child crossed his arms, defiant, "I won't go. It's wrong."

"And how are you going to leave anyway?" came Isabela's sharp tongue.

Morrigan ignored her and continued to talk with her son, "Right and wrong don't matter in this kind of struggle."

"No."

They all turned. Tristan stood leaned against the wall, armor soaked in blood. Hawke stood tall beside him. Merrill rushed to Hawke, tears streaming. He embraced her and both laughed and stroked each other's faces. Morrigan grinned at Tristan, who had spoken. He continued.

"If we don't think about right and wrong in all situations, how can we be any better than the darkspawn?" he smiled weakly.

"Tristan," she breathed. She rushed forward and embraced him. Had it been years ago, she would have considered it weak to do so, but her time with him had softened her a bit. When he touched her, his hand was limp and weak. A moment later, he collapsed against the wall.

"Father!" the child ran to his father's side.

"It's okay, little one. I just slipped."

Morrigan was incredulous, "You just slipped? You're bleeding heavily. Maker, how much of that is yours?"

Tristan looked at the bloody palm of his gauntlet, "Too much."

Merrill wrapped her arms around Hawke's neck tightly, tears of happiness streaming as she smiled. She whispered in his ear, "Thank you, _ma'vhenan_, for coming back to me safe!"

The joyousness was interrupted when Isabela spoke, "Where's Varric?"

They were all suddenly aware of the absence of the dwarf.

Tristan moved to stand up, muttering, "No rest for the weary," but he collapsed again.

"Where's Varric?" Isabela asked again.

Hawke put a hand on Isabela's shoulder, "He stayed behind to hold them off to give us a chance. There was nothing we could do," he said as reassuringly as he could. Isabela looked away, her face beginning to tremble in anger.

"No," Merrill covered her mouth in shock. Everyone remained silent, and for a moment, the world was silent with them. The silence was broken by the scream of a hurlock.

Tristan growled in pain as Morrigan's hands glowed over his wounds, "It sounds as if they've finished with him and are on the way. We need a plan."

Darkspawn screeches echoed all around them, "What should we do? We tried to make a ladder out of here, but it didn't work. That stone is solid," Morrigan confessed.

"We must make a stand."

Everyone turned toward Hawke, who had said it, "I know it will be hard fought, but we might be able to kill enough so that we could buy some time for a respite and an escape."

Tristan began laughing, a cruel laugh that had all the humor drained from it. His laughter morphed into a sickening cough. When he was done, he snorted and spat bloody phlegm on the ground. His voice was grave as he spoke, "An excellent plan, if we weren't fighting darkspawn. A respite and escape would come with a retreat of our enemy. Darkspawn have no fear, and as such, there will be no escape and no retreat."

He shifted himself in a position to stand. Morrigan moved to help him up, but he held up a hand. He stood slowly, his limbs quaking. His face was drained and his expression wild. Yet, he grinned, "This would be a finer place as any," he was strangely jovial, "Champion, my sword."

Hawke handed Tristan the blade. Tristan drew it from its scabbard and held it aloft, examining it, his face still in that grin, "The sword of Maric Therin," he muttered, "Used to free Ferelden, once from Orlais, and twice from darkspawn. It seems fitting that this famed blade should become a lost artifact of legend," suddenly, he looked toward the child, and his expression changed, this time to something that resembled anger, but detached, like he wasn't feeling it. His eyes began to emanate the silvery pale blue smoke from before, "They shall not have him," He growled. The darkspawn screams became louder.

Hawke found this to be unnerving, to say the least, but he began to sense that something was wrong when the Warden began to say, "They shall not have him," over and over, like some bizarre chant. Tristan moved slowly in an uncoordinated manner, taking a position in front of the group. He held his shield up with his wounded arm, a feat that would normally be excruciating at best. Yet he didn't call out pain, or give any indication that he was aware of the people around him, only repeating, "They shall not have him."

Morrigan reached out and slowly inched her hand toward his shoulder. Suddenly, Tristan turned around, his eyes burning gold orbs of light, and snarled in a deep, savage voice not his own, "Would you profane that which is holy with the taint of the children of magisters?!" he turned back to his original position, sword and shield at the ready, and called out, "The magisters were fools! They did not know the truth! Now, their children seek to consume him! They shall not have him!" his voice echoed off the walls and mingled with the snarling of darkspawn.

Hawke exchanged a fearful look with Isabela, Morrigan's face was pale with terror, and Merrill's eyes shone with dread, but the child seemed too calm. His eyes were closed and his hands twitched slowly by his sides. Though they all noticed this, a bigger concern was looming. The darkspawn were close. Hawke moved first. He took a position next to the possessed Warden and drew his daggers. Isabela took position on the other side and drew hers. She looked at Hawke.

"For Varric."

Merrill and Morrigan stood behind the three fighters and pointed their staves down the pass over the shoulders of their companions. The tips glowed with energy, both fire and ice. They caught sight of the first darkspawn, a few genlocks armed with axes. The creatures screamed and stormed toward the group. Morrigan and Merrill began chanting, and fire and ice pelted the monsters, killing some. A spike of ice sheered the arm off of the closest genlock, but it didn't even slow down, reaching its remaining hand out toward the party, an unholy shriek emanating from its maw.

"THEY SHALL NOT HAVE HIM!" Tristan roared in the deep voice of his possessor and brought his sword down to bear against the skull of the genlock. He split its head in two, gore spattering his face. He pulled the weapon free and swung again at the next genlock, which was burning alive. He split the monster in half from its shoulder to the opposite hip. Hawke spun around and thrust his dagger through the eye of one of the creatures, and Isabela stabbed forward both of her daggers into the throat of another.

"THEY SHALL NOT HAVE HIM!" the voice was terrible and deafening. Tristan raised his shield and crushed a genlock's skull. More darkspawn approached, barely slowed by the rising pile of bodies and magical debris. Fire and ice consumed some, and what was left came screaming out of the maelstrom, mutilated and burned, reaching their hands toward the group, even more twisted than what they once were. Tristan's sword cut through flesh, muscle, and bone wherever he swung. Hawke and Isabela's daggers found target after target, and the screeches of dying monsters echoed across the mountains.

"THEY SHALL NOT HAVE HIM!" boomed against the walls, getting louder and louder, shaking the earth with its very sound. The tide of darkspawn grew even larger. Stone and lightning rained from above, cones of fire and ice shot from the staves of the mages, and the creatures that emerged from that onslaught were barely recognizable husks, flesh stripped from bones, eyes or ears gone, limbs missing, and entrails spilling out of their guts. Yet, they still kept pushing, and soon, Hawke found himself in a shoving match with the horde.

The party was forced to back up. Isabela and Hawke pushed with what was left of their strength. Merrill and Morrigan were running out of lyrium and were tiring. Tristan, through whatever power was controlling him, held fast, holding back much of the horde with his shield. He continued to shout over the scrabbling of the multitude of beasts. It was all Hawke could do not to cover his ears.

Then, it happened.

A hurlock Alpha pushed its shield against Tristan's with enough force to shove him off his feet. It threw its weapons aside as more darkspawn streamed through the hole it had made. The two mages swung at it with their staves, but it ducked and pushed them aside. It reached out toward the child, who had not made a single movement during the battle.

The child's eyes and mouth opened, glowing a burning gold, and the terrible voice reverberated in the minds of the world as a golden shockwave of pure energy pulsed from the child's body.

"Cease your pitiful struggle, children of the magisters!"


	5. I Apologize to The Readers: A Failed Fic

**To those of you who have been awaiting updates on The Return of Urthemiel, I have some bad news. There will be no updates on The Return of Urthemiel. This is for a number of reasons, the main one being that I just couldn't flesh out the vast storyline I was intending to write, a storyline that I wasn't sure would end at all. I had a basic layout of the series of events that would happen, but I had too much trouble trying to connect the plot points. I had a number of intended character deaths at poignant places, but it just never came together.**

** I never really got this one off the ground because I didn't have a solid idea of a plot. **

**Let this husk of a fanfic serve as a reminder to those who wish to write fanfiction that if you don't care about your finished product, you'll end up killing your own writing.**

**But take heart, good readers. Anyone may find inspiration from the ashes.**


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